Reconciliation
by HeroineGauddess
Summary: AU: Henry's all grown up, living a life outside of Storybrooke, with a daughter of his own. What happens when he's convinced to return, to a town still held captive by a curse he was never able to break? [Cover image is not mine, just thought it perfect for the story. Please let me know if it's yours and I'll gladly give credit!]
1. Chapter I

He parks across from them in an empty parking lot of an old grocery store long boarded closed. Unbuckling himself, he can't help the grin that tugs on his cheeks at the sight of the vigorous bundle through the windshield. Reminds him of a Pomeranian jumping on its hind legs.

She's not much taller than three feet, blonde hair, straight as paper, pulled into a high ponytail which bounces to her every vault, skinny limbs raised in the air obscured by mini-hoodie sleeves, and with the prettiest hazel eyes he believes were ever set upon him. Only it's hard to tell from here as they're squinted to make room for the biggest and brightest smile. His little Sophie. She's always been small, since the day she was born—arriving at a stark one pound, eight ounces—a 'preemie' they'd called her, and continues to be the runt of her classmates. He supposes she'll remain that way, on the shorter end of the stick, even as she grows. Oh but so full of life.

He jokingly teases she must've been made of Nuclear Energy.

Switching the ignition towards himself, he cuts the engine off then climbs out from behind the wheel just in time for a solid forty pounds to practically tackle him to the ground. The impact nearly doing just that as he's forced to take an involuntary step back.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy!" she squeals. Little paw-like hands cling to his jeans and if it weren't for his belt, they'd no doubt be pulled down. He maneuvers them both around, attached at the hips, and manages to shut the car door before squatting to her level.

"Hey kid," he finally greets, pulling her into his arms and tucking his head in the crook of her neck in order to vibrate silly snarling sounds against the skin there. She squirms in fits of giggles while joshing him to stop.

Pulling back does he then take in the woman leaning against the opposite vehicle, her arms crossed in front of her, a butterfly backpack dangling by her fingers. She flashes a smile of her own as she watches him gather the child up and prop her on his arm. It's tiny and brief, but warm nevertheless.

"Hey," he addresses once he's near.

"Hi," she returns, yet nothing more than that. Her gaze doesn't even linger long enough to really consider theirs having connected at all, and he frowns.

The girl suddenly stirs, raising her chin from resting on his shoulder. "Mommy says I get the whole weekend with you this time!" Those beautiful doll-like orbs of hers widening to animate her point.

He mimics her expression, pushing out a chuckle as he speaks, "I know! Me and mommy do communicate, dear."

"I know," Sophie whines in embarrassment and attempts to hide by ducking her head back down.

He laughs some more, turning his attention back to her mother who he finds scrolling her thumb across her phone screen. His laughter fades.

"So," she sighs, now willing to look at him and tear herself away from the device. "Sunday at five?" The arm with the backpack outstretches it in offering, "Please don't be late."

He scoffs, snatching the bag from her and swings it onto his free shoulder. "It's the same place, same time every week, Karen. How can I forget?"

She's retreated to her driver side door and pulls on the door handle, spreading it wide before stepping in. "It's not your memory that's ever concerned me, Henry."

* * *

"So what should we do, kid?" he prompts, peeking at his daughter through the rear-view mirror. "We got the whole weekend to ourselves and no supervision."

Her arms fly up again despite the belt hooked through her booster seat, strapping her in. "Mickey D's!" she cheers.

"Yay!" he singsongs and steers them in the direction. "McDonald's it is."

He then fingers the radio, turning the volume up a notch just as a noise catches his attention from behind and scrolls it back down. "You say something, Sophie?"

"I said, mommy told me something."

"Yeah?" Henry's brow arches at the road. "What's that?"

"Grandma's birthday's tomorrow."

_It's not_, he thinks with a doubtful pout and fishes for his cell in the cup holder. "So it is." he mumbles, letting out a breath from the date shown and drops it back in the center console.

They're caught by a break of silence, nothing but the muffled happenings sounding outside—faint and in passing. He makes one light but is caught by the next, and puts his turning signal on.

He dares another peek at her in the looking glass only to spy her starring pleadingly back. The rotating clickety-click isn't helping and _when's it going to turn green already?_

"You sent my present, right?" she ponders aloud, a touch wary, as if he'll aim his frustrations at her. She's always been able to read him like an open book, but it probably shows on his face.

Henry knows better than not and say he did. He likes to believe Sophie and his birth mother would've been identical when it came to their 'superpower'. That's what solidifies the certainty of his blood running in her veins. Not that there was any doubt.

He'd only met her that one time, when he tracked her down with nothing but the clothes on his back, the storybook under his arm, and a teacher's credit card in his pocket. It was a long ride back when Emma Swan had hand-delivered him to his adoptive mother, if the bus ride to her was any indication, and not a moment was wasted. He'd tried with all a ten year old's might to convince her to stay, to no avail. Emma Swan disappeared into the night, leaving him just as sudden and unceremoniously as he'd found her, never to see or hear from her again. But he'll never forget what little time they shared and the tale of her ability to catch a lie.

Sometimes he entertains the notion of finding her again, but having not been interested at the time when he'd done all the work...what would it change, now?

Despite the fact that they've never met and probably never will, Sophie seems to be gifted with that piece of inheritance. Apparently skipping a generation.

As a matter of fact, his daughter even looks like her too.

Huh.

"Daddy?"

"Yes," he whines, springing out of his reverie, as if the tables have turned and it were him sitting in the booster seat. In the reflection of the glass, Sophie's become fascinated by her fingers and is twiddling them together.

"So I can call her?"

_When had she asked that?_ He loves her, he truly does, more than he can express in words, more than life itself, and he'll do anything for her. But honestly? When she asks him of this? It tests him. It means, he has to talk to _her_.

"She's a very busy woman, Sophie."

The girl growls under her breath, "I just want to wish her happy birthday. I just want to talk to her, I never get to talk to her!"

"Why doesn't mommy let you call her then?" he questions, knowing full-well that Karen would deliberately foretell their daughter this information just to screw with him. Little did Karen know just how much she and said woman were alike.

Sophie's chin is beginning to ripple. He can picture it in his head without having to look, he knows. It's in the wavering of her voice. "Please, daddy, please?"

The light finally switches to green and vehicles in front start to move, giving him room to pull the car into the McDonald's parking lot. He seeks out the nearest vacant space before jerking it to a halt. To his dismay, Henry whips his cellphone out once again and twists in the seat to face his daughter.

"Fine," he caves, handing her the device. "Five minutes."

She beams and immediately dials the number, which is one of three she knows by heart. The other two being her mother's and the one she holds in her hand.

The ringer circles a few rounds before the sound of pressure releases through the receiver and a voice fills the interior.

_Her __voice._ One that could never be mistaken for anyone else's.

"Sidney—so help me, _get. out._" she hisses, most of the impact guarded by, a hand or a shoulder, Henry can only guess.

She lets out a long stream of air, breathing out the tension for a more pleasant greeting. "Mayor Mills," It lacked the essence of a smile and wasn't so much intended as a _'Hello'_ or _'How may I help you'_, than it was along the lines of _'What the hell do you want'_.

But Sophie isn't deterred nor does she even flinch. Her enthusiasm is unyielding, it'd make anyone think she were about to talk to a celebrity oppose to a distant relative.

"Hey grandma!" the girl blurts, no longer able to hold in her excitement. "Happy birthday!"

There's a pause, Henry picturing Regina being taken completely aback—rendered speechless, which is a feat in itself. It has cause for him to smirk.

"Sophie," Regina lightly chastises, collected now. "You're a little early, my dear. My birthday isn't until tomorrow."

"I know, I wanted to be the first one!" Sophie glances up at her father and sticks a finger in her mouth, hindering her speech a bit stuffed.

"That you are,"

"...What'er you doing?"

"Well..." The sound of papers ruffling filter in the background. "I'm just bored to tears here at the office. What are _you_ up to?"

"Nothing. Sitting in the car with daddy."

Henry cringes, closing his eyes a moment.

"I see." Disappointment's clearly laced in her tone, but goes amiss on his daughter. "...I wish I could see you, in person. I'd give you a great big hug."

_No-no, I see what you did there, don't give her any ideas._

"Me too," Sophie whines, as if she could burst into tears at the thought. "I wish I could meet you one day. I seen pictures, when daddy was my age."

Regina hums, "I received your gift, and the pictures you sent me."

"You did!" Sophie's posture instantly straightens, shooting up in her car seat. "What do you think?"

"Short," Regina clips but her granddaughter giggles, getting the joke at her expense.

_Oh my god_, Henry muses looking away, _they've got the same sense of humor__._

"It's alright, dear. I'm short too. It's just not fair, huh?"

"Yeah,"

"I suppose some things you just don't grow out of. But you probably will. Speaking of, where's your teeth?"

Regina sounds as though she's admiring the photographs as they speak. He assumes she probably has one framed on her desk.

"The tooth fairy tooked them! But they grow back."

"I'm sure," Regina smiles. "...And you'll have to call me more often. I enjoy our talks."

"Yeah, like girl talks."

They laugh.

"Daddy sometimes won't let me, though."

It grows silent after that and Henry's forced to question it. Sophie's head is turned down, chin about an inch from her chest, ponytail trailing the length of her slender neck and falling to one side. Little fingers are curled and propped against her cheek, the opposite hand spread wide, little fingernails whitening around the curve of the phone pressed to her ear. Such a serious pose for such an adolescent child.

Precious.

Regina's throat clears uncomfortably, "Well," her voice deepening to a husk and fraying at the corners. "...You know you can call me anytime you want."

"I know," mumbles Sophie, cute little scarlet lips working around her tiny fist.

A man's voice seeps through, too far and unclear to decipher what's being said.

"Sophie, sweetheart, I have to go now."

The girl's face sours, "Do you have to?" she moans, "Can't you talk longer?"

"I wish I could—"

"Please, grandma, please?"

"...Sophie," Henry chimes in warningly, earning him a disgruntled expression from his daughter.

"There's nothing I would want more than to stay and talk with you, but it seems I'm summoned." Regina explains, pulling out her best motherly tone. "They're asking for me, I have to get off the phone now."

Sophie whines out defeatedly, making Henry want to grab the phone from her and hangup.

"Give your daddy a kiss for me and you be sure to remember things so you can tell me all about them."

"...Okay."

"Okay," Regina echoes. "I love you."

"I love you more." Sophie shoots back, for nothing else than to lead the older woman on just that bit longer.

"Uh huh, bye dear."

The line disconnects.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Shall I continue or leave it be as a one-shot?

Reviews are love!


	2. Chapter II

"_Hello? Who is this?"_

"_...Mom?"_

"_Henry?"_

"_I'm scared,"_

"_Of what, sweetheart?"_

"_That she might not make it."_

"_Of who might not make it? Karen?"_

"_No, the baby."_

"_It's a girl?"_

"_Yeah...but, but it's too soon. If you could see her mom, they got her hooked up to all these wires and...and machines. She's just...too small, and I just...I need you here, I don't think I could take it, if..."_

"_Really? Because I can be there in a couple hours."_

"_I'm scared to touch her. Is that, is that bad? That I can't even bring myself to touch my own kid?"_

"_...No, my little prince. That's not bad."_

* * *

"Daddy?"

Henry's gaze comes into focus on ten perfect tiny little toes scrunched up on the rubber material that makes up the flooring of McDonald's PlayPlace. He jerks his head up at Sophie standing in front of him, straightening out his posture from having been hunched over his knees, her head cocked to one side in concern.

"You ready to go, kid?"

The change of subject goes without a hitch and his daughter nods.

"Yeah," she says defeatedly, then shoots her arm out to point almost accusingly at another child leaving the fenced playground with her own family. "My friend's going home, so we can go now too."

He laughs, "Oh, can we?"

"Yep!" she grins.

Henry stands from the bench and her hand automatically slips into his as they head toward the parking lot. "How can you be friends when you just met?"

Sophie glances up at him with an expression as if it were obvious. "I just needed someone to play with." Shaking her head, like _duh_.

"I would've played with you,"

"No," she singsongs in doubt.

His brow creases, "Why not?"

"You was thinking about grandma."

He reaches into his pocket with his free hand for the keys, pressing the unlock button and the car's lights flash in response. "How do you know that?"

"...Cause you had your scary face on."

_Perceptive little shit._ Though he has nothing to say to that. He leads her to the right side of the vehicle and pulls the backseat door open.

"How come you hate grandma?"

Henry freezes, watching as the blonde climbs inside and plops down in the booster. His first reflex reaction is to defend himself. But, _come on_, this is Sophie. She doesn't mean it, she doesn't even know what she's asking. And he wants to be honest, because of the promise he'd made to myself long ago if he ever had children of his own.

His mind scrambles for an explanation, his mouth desperately trying to catch up, mutely sounding out vowels. "I don't..._hate_ grandma..."

"Yes you do," she assures, situating herself.

"Soph—" he begins with a huff, ready for the conversation to be over, rolling his head away to catch another car crawl from the drive-thru window and disappear around the corner of the building.

"Did she yell at you?"

He shakes his head and blinks languidly, "No."

"She _spank_ you?" she puts effort into lowering her voice to a near whisper. A child's way of unknowingly questioning wither he'd been physically abused.

"No Soph, it's complicated. You're too young to understand."

"Then what'd she do?"

It isn't as if she's getting onto him, she's five. Her voice is soft and gentle, proverbially approaching with care however a tad impatiently. It still causes him to erupt.

"Something bad, okay?!"

Sophie recoils against the leather headrest, eyes wide with innocence and fear, tiny mouth agape in rebuke yet she doesn't dare make a sound.

It immediately reduces his anger to nothing, blowing wispily to the wind as it flutters his hair like vapor. His head drops to his chest, a move so typically his daughter that he wants to smile at the thought. His features only sour.

Henry doesn't want to be this way, doesn't want to burden her with his troubles, doesn't want to be _her_.

"Grandma did something bad," he rewords, amending his tone and volume, trying his best to convey remorse. "And then she lied about it. She hurt a lot of people, and uh..."

He closes the door before walking around and climbing in the driver's seat.

"Buckle up." he tosses over his shoulder and does the same.

He doesn't start the engine until he hears the resounding click from behind as confirmation.

The entire ride to the apartment is quiet.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I know it's been almost a month since I posted this and I sincerely apologize—work's just been crazy. And I know this update falls a bit short but I wanted to give you all something before another month passes. So please let me know what you think, reviews keep me motivated!

On a side note—I'll add something to the story for whoever can guess where Sophie's character comes from first. I placed a few Easter eggs in the first chapter and I'll give you a couple more clues...she's based off a similar character of the same name aaannnddd it was a Disney Channel movie.


	3. Chapter III

As soon as Henry twists the key, turning the knob and pushes open the door, Sophie bolts past him down the hall towards her room, consequently slamming her own door in her haste.

He simply breathes out a sigh of resignation, closing the front behind him with a weary gait.

He wishes he didn't understand her love for his mother, at times wishes he hadn't introduced them in the first place—a relationship which strengthened and grew strictly over the telephone during the course of a few short years. Karen grew up in the foster system never knowing or ever wishing to know her parents, never mind siblings or extended family. Something that had bonded them. All he'd had was a crypt engraved with his namesake, thus making Regina the closest relative-figure of any sort Sophie would ever have.

To deprive his daughter of that didn't seem right.

So yes, he understands. Better than most. She doesn't want to believe that the woman she fell in love with since that very first call could do something bad, to inflict pain and not care. He felt the same way, for a time. Before...and he didn't want Sophie to find out this way, not like this, and not with how much he knows his daughter looks up to Regina. Or perhaps the idea of her, of the type of person Sophie craves her to be.

_Well_, Henry surmises, _Sophie doesn't really know much of anything_. Not the specifics anyway. She doesn't know who Regina truly is...or had been, in another world. Where all the fantastical tales their world reads as bedtime stories truly exists and uses to instill lessons learned and good behavior, to believe in themselves and in hope and love and magic, to have faith and courage, and to be kind no matter the trials and errors you face nor the evils and darkness you find.

No, what he's just given her now is doubt and he berates himself for it. Because that's all she'll need to start questioning everything—why she's never met Regina in person, why he doesn't like to linger on the topic of his hometown or his childhood. Then it'll unfold into his relationship with her own mother, why he'd never married her, why they broke up to begin with. It'll crack the foundation of everything he's worked so hard for, of everything he's built. Needless to say the damage done when he was ten, that's only five years Sophie's senior. He can only imagine the devastation the truth will cost.

And their relationship will be the price, what little time they have together already based on the custody agreement. Just like it'd happened with him and Karen, just like him and Emma, like him and _her_.

He shakes his mind free of his anxiety and moves further into the apartment, ridding himself of his coat, slinging it over the nearest chair, and toeing off his shoes...the truth is his curse and it's never gone over well.

He takes another deep breath to muster up the courage to confront his daughter and give an explanation, he owes her that much. Certainly not the whole truth, she's far too young for that just yet, but a version of it. Maybe something that'll tide her over until she is old or mature enough to handle it (probably wouldn't matter when he told her and what good it would do to wait, as how all the people before her being a prime example). Perhaps he'll be able to answer some questions too, and others she doesn't yet know to ask.

His socked feet instead lead him to the kitchen, just so he can have a drink first.

* * *

Henry tentatively knocks on Sophie's door, a quick rap against wood, soft and hesitant. Nothing but silence is heard though, as quiet as it'd been in there since she disappeared inside, since the sun went down and the moon arose, and his beer half empty and forgotten on the table due to his brooding, sitting in a small puddle after losing it's chill.

He convinces himself she must have fallen asleep and turns to go until an almost inaudible sniffle perks his ears and he halts, tilting his head to the side and listens for a beat, "Sophie?"

"Go away!" a faint cry filters through.

He blows out a nasal huff glancing down at the carpeting before his smirk slowly morphs into a frown. He tries the handle to unsurprisingly learn it's locked. "Soph," he complains, "open the door."

"No."

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said. I shouldn't have said that, not to you, not about grandma. That was," he breathes out yet another labored sigh. "that's my bad."

When he doesn't hear anything more his body sways forward, his forehead catching him with a resounding thump, his eyes closing upon impact. "The silent treatment, huh? Well it's working. What do you want me to do, I'll do anything."

"...Anything?"

His lips thin with discontent, "...Within reason,"

"Then nevermind."

"Sophie! Come on, work with me here. I'm trying, okay?"

Muffled movement sounds behind the door causing him to lift his head up in time for the tiny blonde to swing it open in that impeccably-cute-but-deadly-serious fumbled manner and marches past him once again. He instinctively follows her, leading him to the living room where she's waiting, offering the spiral-corded landline, dial tone echoing off the bare walls.

It irks him to no end when he's made to read someone's mind, to guess what they're thinking. _Like how the hell is he suppose to know?_ But he'll play along, if it means this on-the-verge-of-a-tantrum vibe they're ensnared in will end before either one blows up. Twice, in his case.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache developing between his temples, "You want me to call someone?"

"Yeah,"

"You gonna lemme know who?" Attitude's beginning to color his tone and he doesn't mean to, but irritation's egging him on.

If there was ever a trait inherited from Karen he could wish away...

And Sophie doesn't disappoint, expressing nothing short of a mirror image, appearing like a spit of her mother from the distraught look on her face, because of his lack of attention if memory serves, to the cock of her tiny hip, jutting out to one side, hand balanced on her little waist.

"Grandma, daddy!"

"And say what?"

"That we're going to her house."

Henry scoffs, a bit too harshly but, "_What?_" then he laughs a hollow noise, a curt shake of his head following. "No."

She stomps her foot, that impending tantrum rearing. "Why?!"

"Because it's cur—hard to find!" he manages, resolute. "You have to be invited in and it's...we're not going, Soph, and that's final. I'm not going back and that's it."

Her chin's rippling now, tear ducts swelling, eyes glazing over and rimming red. "That's not fair!" she yells.

"I don't wanna hear it, Sophie!"

She challenges him to a stare off, both daring the other to succumb to their rule. His are stern. Sympathetic though grim nevertheless, and she eventually buckles.

"I hate you!" she screams this time, a new level of anger he hasn't seen before, throwing the phone at him as she makes a run for her room once again.

Henry catches it in his arms after bouncing off his chest only to immediately drop it upon rushing after her. "Hey!" he raises his voice, succeeding in snagging the sleeve of her hoodie. But his reflexes are a second too late and the material slips from his grasp.

Her door slams, locked with a whispered click, and he finds himself alone, breathing heavy from the exertion of holding back as much as he could. "Dammit!" he drains the last of his adrenaline, leaving him to fall onto the couch and slumping in the seat.

* * *

A couple hours later when Henry migrates to the bedroom, after having made a sweep of things—turning the TV and lights off as he goes, checking if the front door's locked and the shades are down, recycling beer bottles and stashing the bag of chips—does Sophie sneak out of her room.

She's careful to avoid the loose floorboards or bumping into furniture. The dark itself doesn't scare her, it's what lurks in it that usually does. Though she creeps onward, on a mission, till she spots her father's cell plugged to its charger in the wall.

Tiny fingers keypads in her mother's number by memory, set on pleading to be picked up and taken home. Then thinks better of it.

She quickly cancels out and dials her grandmother's number, a tiny nail hovering over the green button.

"_...You know you can call me anytime you want."_

She hits it and brings the device to her ear.

It rings for too long. Maybe it's too late at night.

The line picks up and next she thinks it'll be her grandmother's voicemail.

"Hello?"

It's not.

But it's not her grandmother's voice either.

It's a man's.

Sophie hangs up.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** So this quick update was inspired by another fellow story on this site, entitled _Lavenders Blue_ by RowArk. If you aren't reading it already, you should. It's very well-written and thought out.

But anyway, tell me what you think! Reviews are love (:


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